Fighting Through Blurred Intentions
by Wakodsit
Summary: Harry is thrown in Azkaban at the end of his fifth year after the Ministry mishap. Dumbledore's promises fall to pieces as year after year passes. Harry's mind deteriorates, and he slowly becomes edgier and angrier. As insanity sits in, the Order of the Phoenix finally comes for their savior as Voldemort's powers increase. What will Harry do now that he's free?
1. Prologue

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Harry is thrown into Azkaban at the end of his fifth year after the Ministry mishap. Dumbledore's promises fall to pieces as year after year passes. Harry's mind deteriorates, and he slowly becomes edgier and angrier. As insanity sits in, the Order of the Phoenix finally comes for their savior as Voldemort's powers increase. What will Harry do now that he's free? How will the wizarding world react to an insane savior's dark intentions?

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Prologue:

Numb. No feeling whatsoever.

People were rushing all over the place, extinguishing fires and repairing the Ministry.

Harry sat at the edge of the fountain, staring at the dark floor. His once bright green eyes now dull and dead.

Sirius was gone. Sirius was gone. Sirius was gone.

It ran through his head again and again. His godfather, his protector, was gone. Dead.

Because of him.

A sound of anguish fought to make its way out of Harry's throat. His eyes burned fiercely for a moment before he slapped his palms against them, ending the pain. He had long before lost his glasses, another casualty of the battle only hours ago.

His blurred vision took in the approaching figure of Minister Fudge, his pajamas gone in place for his work attire.

"Mr. Potter, we're going to need to take your statement," Fudge muttered, peering at him suspiciously under his lime green hat.

Harry nodded, standing wearily to his feet and following the portly man into a chamber.

The same chamber that he had visited during the summer for his court hearing.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"The hearing of Mr. Potter vs the Ministry of Magic is now coming to order!" Percy Weasley declared as the Wizengamot took their places.

"Mr. Potter, take the seat in the middle of the court floor," Fudge ordered, and Harry slowly shuffled over to the chair.

Immediately, the chains wrapped around him tightly, making sure he wasn't able to move an inch. Harry didn't struggle though. He sat still, letting the chains hold his weight as he made his body relax.

"Mr. Harry James Potter, you are being charged with destruction of government property, creating false statements about a known, dead Dark Lord, and treason against the Ministry of Magic. What do you plead?" Fudge declared imperiously, sneering down his thick nose at Harry.

Harry stared up at the man, knowing that he was going to receive the punishment that Fudge wanted no matter what he pleaded.

_To hell with it,_ Harry thought, _I'll give him what he wants._

"Guilty."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

That was seven years ago.

Now at the age of twenty-two, Harry Potter sits in his cell in Azkaban Prison. He watches with shrouded eyes as dementors and guards pass by, dolling out punishments and keeping the other criminals at bay.

The dementors no longer effect Harry, long used to the pain and dark memories that became his very mind. His anger simmering each day, the insanity chewing away at him more and more.

The small hope that Hermione and Ron would visit him was gone. The hope that Dumbledore would come for him destroyed. With only his thoughts for company, Harry had figured out many things.

Dumbledore was only using him for his own gain, then would toss him aside once his job and purpose was done. Defeat Voldemort and then be tossed away like a used toy. Hermione was most likely only using him to acquire more knowledge and popularity, while Ron was tagging along for the fame and money.

Money. Corruption. Greed. Jealousy.

Those are the things that make the world go round and the sun shine upon those gluttonous faces of billions of people.

A hysterical cackle made its way past Harry's lips, making the nearest guard look at his wearily. They had come to realized that when Harry began to laugh for no reason at all, it was best to leave him be or face the consequences.

The last guard who had stayed was still in St. Mungo's.

Once Harry was alone, a calculating glint took over his dull, jaded eyes.

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	2. Chapter 1

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Chapter 1:

Harry lay in his cell, waiting.

The sounds of footsteps soon came, and with them the jingle of keys. The lock on Harry's door clicked. He looked up to see one of the more vicious guards stand in the threshold, glaring down at him.

"You have a visitor," the guard snarled. "Get up and go stand over at the wall. Put your hands on the wall in front of you."

Harry did as he was told, wincing slightly at the feeling of cold metal circling his wrists tightly, most likely cutting off circulation.

"Come on, ya cur," the guard muttered. Harry and the guard set out into the hallway.

The walk only took a few minutes, but it felt longer to Harry, who had lost weight and energy once the prison's nutritional diet had come into play. The thrice daily mush of a meal rarely filled the prisoners up, and did less in helping them stay healthy. More prisoners died of starvation and malnutrition than of anything else.

Once in the small visiting room, Harry was lead over to a corner chair where somebody was sitting at. Harry sat next to said person, averting his eyes as the bright white of her hair strained them.

"Hello Luna," Harry started hoarsely.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Luna replied in her whimsical voice. Harry could see she hadn't changed much in the passing years. Luna still wore the same floral, wavy clothes, radish earrings, bottle cork necklace, and seemed to have lost her shoes once more for she was barefoot. How she was let into the prison without shoes on, Harry would never know.

"What are you doing here Luna? Where are the others?" Harry asked, roaming his eyes over the rest of the desolate room.

"I'm here to let you know that our plans are taking shape and the nargles are becoming desperate. The wrackspurts are closing in and the nargles are losing hope. Just thought you'd like to know what was going on," Luna answered, her voice never changing from its airy tone.

Harry blinked at Luna blankly, seemingly not understanding what she was saying.

Luna saw the glint though. The glint of understanding and acknowledgement flash through Harry's eyes before they became dead again.

She touched his hand and got up, motioning that she'd like to leave to one of the watching guards. She practically danced her way out of the prison, her movements as whimsical as her conversation.

"Crazy, that one. Why do we always have to deal with the crazy ones?" grunted a guard. He walked over and roughly grabbed Harry up by the chain connecting his wrists. "Lets go, I don't have all day."

Harry stumbled after the guard, being half-dragged by the punishing pace the guard had set.

Once back in his cell and being released from the chains, Harry sat on his pathetic mattress and stared down at his hand.

Slowly unraveling his fingers there lay a piece of parchment in the palm of his hand. Opening it quietly, it read;

**_NOW_**

With that single word a benevolent smile overcame Harry's face. Looking out of his cell window he saw the end of Luna's hair whipping in the wind as she turned through a patch of trees.

There was no missing his chance.

They were coming, and they were coming now.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Albus Dumbledore was a busy man. He was waging a war, and unfortunately losing at the moment.

What he needed was his weapon again. Harry Potter.

Shaking his head at the turnout of what happened seven years ago, he turned to stare out of the window. Thinking, pondering.

Ah, an idea. Clever old man.

He needed Potter back. Now that the boy is in Azkaban, he'll be even more malleable for his plans. Poor, broken Harry will come crawling back to him for forgiveness and fight even harder to defeat Voldemort.

This war was lasting longer than he wanted it to, but he was willing to wait a little longer to let the consequences to sink in.

The Order had been able to hold themselves against Voldemort's dark forces until they became extremely outnumbered. The ministry was still wary of believing that the once Dark Lord was dead until he showed himself in a raid in Diagon Ally just last week. Now the people of the wizarding world were running around scared for their lives.

_Who's going to save us?_

_Why didn't we listen to Potter and Dumbledore?_

_What are we going to do?  
_

_I don't want to die!_

Those poor, unfortunate souls didn't have a single clue what to do, and were now looking to Dumbledore and the ministry for answers. While the ministry was slowly coming to terms with what had happened, Dumbledore had taken everything into his hand, and now they were gaining fighters every day.

Everything was coming to plan. Now all he had to do was take Potter from Azkaban, train him up a bit, and send him out to slaughter. Voldemort would be defeated, Harry killed in an accident, and he left with the Potter riches and an adoring public.

Dumbledore signed his name in the petition of getting Harry Potter out of Azkaban. Sighing, he stood up and made his way to the floo to go to the ministry.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Footsteps were once again heard making their way down to Harry's cell. This time there was more than one set.

The door clinked open and the guard stood back to let someone else step forward.

One worried, twinkly-eyed Albus Dumbledore made his way into the cell.

"Oh, Harry, I've come to take you back to Hogwarts. You've been cleared of all charges now that the wizarding world knows that Voldemort is alive," Dumbledore explained as he gathered Harry to his feet.

Harry watched this all with cold, dead eyes, allowing himself to be picked up and walked out of his cell. He followed Dumbledore through the hallways and to the front of Azkaban, where Dumbledore took his belongings from a guard. They walked in silence out of the prison and onto a boat, where they crossed a lake to get to land. Once on land, Dumbledore took Harry's arm and apparated them to Hogwarts' grounds.

All the while, Dumbledore never looked Harry in the eye, missing the glint of malicious intent that had made its way into the boy savior's eyes.

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	3. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2:

Harry watched dispassionately as the Mediwitch flew into utter chaos trying to treat him for multiple ailments at one time. Snape, at the very least, had the decency to throw a freshening charm his way before brooding in a corner of the hospital ward.

Inwardly sighing, Harry stood from his bed and made his way over to the door of the hospital wing, wanting to leave the unprofessional woman to find better treatments.

"Where do you think you're going, young man?" Madam Pomfrey sputtered as she hurried over to stop him.

"Leaving," was Harry's short answer.

"And why would you do such a thing in a condition you have yourself in?" the woman utter, baffled.

"Like I did this to myself," Harry sneered. "I'm going to someone who can actually treat me efficiently rather than sprouting off nonsense and trying to dose me in spells and potions."

"They're to help you, child!" Pomfrey replied in frustration. The cheek the boy was giving her was becoming irksome.

"They're unneeded and unwanted. This is utterly unprofessional! You, you hag, are utterly pitiful and melodramatic," Harry snarled, staring down at the woman indifferently.

Snape stepped forward, interrupting Madam Pomfrey as she riled herself up into another argument. "I believe I may be of some assistance, Potter. If you'll follow me," he interjected smoothly.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. I would gladly appreciate some of your help," Harry stated, opening the ward's door for the older man.

"Not a problem, Potter," Snape replied, billowing out of the room and down the hallway.

Both men left a sputtering Madam Pomfrey in the hospital ward, wondering what had just transpired in front of her.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The two men walked down the hallway slowly, Harry's legs becoming weaker as they went due to the lack of use and undernourishment.

"Would we be able to slow down, Snape? Not as full of energy as I used to be," Harry rasped, becoming winded from the long bursts of physical endurance.

"Here, Potter, let me help," Snape replied as he wrapped an arm around Harry's back. Harry grabbed a fistful of the dark professor's robe, allowing himself to lean against the older man as they made their way into the dungeons.

Once in Snape's personal rooms, which was quite a nice surprise to Harry, the professor led them to a large couch.

"No skulls and shackles, Professor? So disappointing!" Harry teased as he evaluated the rooms, taking in the neutral colors that created the sitting room. Cremes, lighter greens, and dark blues set a soothing, relaxed atmosphere.

"Don't tell the students, Potter, or I might have to make an exception for you," Snape smirked at him over his shoulder. He left the room, returning a short while back with a medicine bag.

"You will be put on a strict regime of nutrient potions and soft foods till your body has recovered enough strength by itself to take in larger amounts of sustenance. I'll also have you on a set weekly dosage of pain relieving potion so your rest is not strenuous with unease. The initial rest should be undisturbed so your body and mind can begin healing immediately," Snape listed off, setting the potions on the coffee table in order of intake.

"This is what I meant back in the Infirmary Wing! This is calm and informative, not wild and forceful," Harry grumbled as he began slugging back the nasty concoctions.

Snape withheld a snort of amusement and went bustling into a guest room, setting things together for Harry.

"Here, you may stay for the time being until you are sufficiently healthier. You may borrow these clothes until you are able to go out for your own," Snape informed Harry, leading him into the adjoining bathroom. "And for Merlin's sake, Potter, take a shower."

"Aye aye, Cap'n," Harry winked, and made his way into the large bathroom, leaving Snape to watch him make his progress.

Once the door was closed Severus Snape released the shiver that had wanted to make its way down his spine since the moment he saw Harry. Dumbledore and Pomfrey might not have seen it, but Snape had. Under that carefully constructed mask of his, Potter was a broken man with a shattered mind.

Snape decided right there that whatever was to happen, he didn't want to be between what went against Potter. For that man was powerful and crazy, and nothing short of Merlin was going to be stopping him.

Leaving Potter's new room, he went to send a quick letter off to the Dark Lord.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Harry smirked as the warm water flowed down his body. He had seen Snape's initial reaction to him; his eyes gave him away and his mind's barriers were easy to slip through when they weren't alert. The short lapse of shock had allowed him to set himself into the Potion Master's mind.

Writing a letter to Voldemort, eh?

A burst of hysterical giggles left his maniacally grinning mouth. Harry's mask slipped for a moment, letting the full gleam of his insanity flare across his face. His shoulders shook in the effort to keep the emotions in.

Quickly finishing his shower, Harry toweled off and grabbed the outfit that was left on his bed. Slipping on the simple shirt and dark slacks, he made his way out into the sitting room where Snape was waiting for him with a cup of tea and biscuits.

"How's good ole Voldy doing?" Harry smiled, leaning forward on the seat to get a clear look at Snape's face. "Still killing mudbloods and traitors?"

Snape stared at him blankly for a moment before replying with a, "The Daily Prophet can tell you all you need to know about death tolls since you've been gone, Potter."

"But I want to know all the details about his little exploits and raids, not the watered down drab they give to the public," Harry acknowledged, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to seem innocent.

"What makes you believe that I would know anything about the Dark Lords activities more than the next person?" Snape questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"I believe you know more than you're letting on because you aren't really on the light side. On Dumbledore's side. You've always had the talent for the dark and dangerous, Snape. You don't tell the Order of the Phoenix all the Dark Lord's plans. You just wrote him a letter saying that I was in your care and ready to persuade me to join his side," Harry listed off, staring intently into Snape's dark eyes, watching as they slowly got wider with each admission.

With a fast, sharp movement, Snape was straddling Harry with his wand under his chin. All masks were off as each man took in and observed what they would be going against.

Snape's face was stone cold as he glared at the younger man, his glittering, black eyes unfeeling.

Harry was smiling up at Snape, his mouth stretched as far as it would go. His jade eyes gleamed crazily as he took in the situation. A soft laugh slid past his lips, slowly building into a hysterical belly laugh.

Harry's convulsing body was enough to make Snape get up and move to the other side of the room, his eyes and wand still trained on Harry.

It took a few moments for him to regain his bearings, but Harry got to his feet swaying from side to side.

"Does Snivilleous Snape want to play a game?" Harry asked, staring at the dark man through half lidded eyes.

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